


More Fool You

by nonky



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 14:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16557884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonky/pseuds/nonky
Summary: Remi felt like the cartoonish evil twin to her amnesiac self, plotting murder and heartbreak. She was in command of her mind enough to understand her conversations with Roman - Roman's ghost - were a symptom of her faculties slipping. The skill for efficient, cold-blooded strategy she'd treasured years ago was rusted to disuse. She couldn't settle on a plan, even with Roman's imagined help. Nothing seemed enough. She wanted to be there to see the pain of betrayal, but the greater cause demanded she keep her freedom to continue her mother's work.





	More Fool You

**Author's Note:**

> I was bursting with Blindspot fic ideas in the first two seasons, but found myself unable to settle on ideas during the third. Everything promising seemed to be asked, answered and sorted in canon before I could figure out my angle. The fourth season, and Remi posing as Jane, has given me a few ideas I think are worth making the attempt.

Her hand was getting sweaty inside his tight grip, a minor prison compared to her daily life as his wife. 

Kurt had insisted on going with her to the weekly blood tests that told them she was getting worse. Remi didn't see much point in measuring her slide into mental collapse, but she knew Jane would have been cooperative. Jane probably would have brought along the whole work family if they'd known, maybe started a prayer circle in the waiting room while the results were processed. 

Remi felt like the cartoonish evil twin to her amnesiac self, plotting murder and heartbreak. She was in command of her mind enough to understand her conversations with Roman - Roman's ghost - were a symptom of her faculties slipping. The skill for efficient, cold-blooded strategy she'd treasured years ago was rusted to disuse. She couldn't settle on a plan, even with Roman's imagined help. Nothing seemed enough. She wanted to be there to see the pain of betrayal, but the greater cause demanded she keep her freedom to continue her mother's work.

She could just kill Kurt. It would be the simplest mission she'd ever had. He clutched her in their bed each night, ate the food she cooked, drank anything she handed to him. A few days of research would even let her fake some kind of dissociative episode to avoid an investigation. All Kurt and Jane's friends knew he'd never want to see her in prison for hurting him, and they'd want to believe it was a freak accident. 

There were too many options, and so much trust mislaid in Jane's hands. Remi barely needed to work at some of the plans, and others would mean years of preparation to rival Sandstorm's efforts. She didn't have time to waste being indecisive, but she needed to know Kurt would suffer. 

If she was honest, Jane had hurt her own husband shortly after marrying him worse than Remi could manage with decades to do harm. Jane's leaving him had set Kurt abandoning an infant daughter and a career helping people. Nothing in the world would keep him from following his wife around the world, not even her desperate plea he stay away. 

Remi would have no peace until he was dead, and little satisfaction unless she could free Shepherd and finish what they'd started. She wanted to act quickly, but knew better. Time was an issue, as was the threat of failure. 

She broke character to flex her hand inside Kurt's, and he let her go long enough to swipe his palm on his jeans. 

"I'm nervous," he said gruffly, the tone making simple words soft. "How are you?"

He spent hours a day asking her how she was, what she wanted, if she'd eaten or slept or taken her headache pills. Kurt Weller worked harder as her nurse than any medical professional worked in a year taking care of a ward full of patients. Seeing her sicken and die would kill him anyway. It was a kindness to spare him the experience of losing his wife again. 

"I'm okay," Remi told him, smiling to sell it. Her voice had an answering tone for his, a quiet and shy version of herself she'd found with Oscar. "I'm sorry it's taking so long."

Acting like Jane was hit or miss for her, but guilt was an easy way to deflect. Jane's martyr complex disarmed anyone in her circle of friends. They fell over backwards making up excuses why doing her a favour was actually very beneficial for their schedules. 

"It's fine," Kurt said immediately. 

He caught the hand he'd freed and kissed it gently. The cheesy gesture would have made her eyes roll, except he was sincere. He meant everything he said, the terse expressions of love delivered without flourish or drama. He loved Jane the way of chivalrous knights, with the modern pragmatism of a man who had to save for college tuition for two daughters. 

Barely stumbling, Kurt Weller had settled into planning for Avery's needs as well as Bethany's. He was Jane's husband, and therefore stepfather to her nearly adult child. He had a new credit card for 'emergencies or exam week pizza' ready with Avery's name, and a list of necessary items to make her dorm room homey for her. Remi envied his uncomplicated acceptance of the girl. She'd mourned her lost opportunity to be a mother, and later come to see it as the best thing for her baby. 

She was proud of Avery's strength. Remi would always have worried where her baby ended up unless she'd met her, but she'd been afraid to look for her own selfish reasons. Knowing her was wonderful, but it was a part of a life she couldn't sustain. 

Regrets about past actions were natural, but Remi couldn't imagine how Jane Doe's short life had somehow wound through this man's and collected two children into the tangle. She couldn't believe Jane's marriage was as magical as it seemed. People romanticized difficult relationships, and tended to recall the sweeter moments. 

Kurt squeezed her hand, a signal he wanted her attention. Remi turned in her chair, checking her expression for any resentment leaking out. 

"Jane, you know I'm not just making small talk when I ask how you are," he said. "You have to be afraid sometimes, or not feeling well. I don't want you to pretend with me."

She nodded. "I know that. I'm generally okay, and it's helpful to keep busy. I worry less when I can focus on work, or when I'm spending time with you and the girls."

Kurt had started it, and it felt like something Jane would echo, so Remi referred to Avery and Bethany as the girls, too. It blurred some of the memories she knew to be real, giving the illusion of having raised Avery with Kurt and giving birth to Bethany. If she wanted to really delude herself with happy families, Remi could pretend Kurt was the boy she'd dated in high school and Avery's father. When she wanted to suffer for her sins, she could picture a life of mundane struggles to be a little family far from Shepherd, Roman and their mission.

Thankfully for her, Jane had retained Remi's economy of words. Blurting a lot of information made Kurt nervous, and short sentences convinced him easily. Remi leaned toward him as he pressed his face to her hair.

"I love you more than anything, Jane," he sighed. "We're going to do anything we need to get you a cure. But in the meantime, it's normal to be upset. Don't pull away to hide it from me. I can tell. It makes it harder to cope, guessing what you're going through that you don't want me to see."

He was smart and had an encyclopedic knowledge of his wife. When Remi made a mistake, Kurt's injured gaze tried to x-ray the truth from her bones. He showered her with praise, reassurance and affection if she wasn't smiling. Remi had grown used to ardent but chaste touches drifting lingeringly down her arm to catch her fingers. She had learned how miserly she could be with her own caresses before he asked her why she was distancing herself.

If not for Roman's death, she would have run out of excuses in the first week playing Jane. Remi petted Kurt's shoulder, giving a subtle push to get him to look at her face. 

"I never doubt you," she told him. "I'm really doing okay, though it's helpful knowing you'll listen. I have you. It bothers me more thinking about Roman's last year all alone, with no one even aware he was dying. We were hunting him to put him in prison instead of looking for the cure. He was my brother and I let him down."

Her real grief shut him up most of the time, and Kurt stiffened. "That's not true."

She shook her head, unwilling to bend to his placating words. "To Roman it was, so to me it is - at least for now. It's so recent, I can't help feeling guilty," Remi said, letting fatigue fray her voice.

Her brother had died as an enemy, and Kurt couldn't argue with his wife over anything less than life or death. He exhaled and stood up, pulling her along. She knew how he expected her to sway into his arms, crushing to him like her legs didn't work. She knew he would kiss away tears if she shed them. She knew Kurt Weller had gone from a taciturn, unavailable man to a husband who held his wife with obvious, reverent devotion in front of anyone who cared to look. 

"I'm so sorry, honey," he rasped.

She had to kill him, very soon, even if it didn't give her all the satisfaction she craved. Remi picked up her chin and went into his embrace, notching her face over his shoulder. 

"Me, too," she whispered.


End file.
